fic: drink their poison too (Merlin/Arthur)
1. This is the cutest picture in the history of ever.

2. FIC!

drink their poison too
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: R
Spoilers: For the first season.
Notes: This is the sequel to turning in revolutions and this is the fate you've carved on me, in the series I'm starting to call Gravity. Title (unsurprisingly) from the song "Gravity" by Vienna Teng. Thanks to veverghede and slylilgoblin for the beta!


drink their poison too


I.


Somehow, Merlin had assumed that the secret of his magic was the hardest part to break, that if they got past the instant shock and if his friends – Arthur – forgave him for it, everything would be fine.

And it had been, for a little bit; they’d returned to Camelot exhausted but triumphant, and when Uther asked about the details of the rescue mission, Arthur had spun a web of lies so casually intricate and believable that Merlin wondered why the prince ever asked Merlin to cover for him. Merlin even got some relatively innocuous credit, so Uther didn’t glare at him with quite so much venom, and after a few days passed and Morgana recovered completely from the experience, he thought things would return to (relatively) normal.

But no, Arthur had questions, and being Arthur – imperious, self-centered, proud; crown prince to the core – he couldn’t simply ask them outright.

In fact, he refused to admit that he had anything to ask at all. Every time Merlin even remotely referred to his magic, he received a glare that shut him up immediately, or if he did persevere, Arthur would simply turn away. At first it was merely annoying, but even when Merlin stopped pushing, Arthur continued to be cool to him, snapping even more irritably than before.

Somehow it made Merlin ache even more than when his magic had been a secret. He thought they’d come to some kind of understanding, out there in the woods. But back in Camelot, under Uther’s thumb and away from desperate, chaotic times of necessity, that acceptance was strained. Not broken; not yet, but considering that Arthur refused to talk to him about anything more significant than the appalling state of his stables, Merlin couldn’t help but worry.

“He’s conflicted,” Morgana supplied, when he found himself seeking refuge with the girls.

That was one good thing that had come out of this whole mess – he could let himself trust Morgana again, and she and Gwen had finally worked out whatever secrets and problems they had.

“Yeah, I know,” Merlin said. “He struggles between his sense of loyalty and what he personally thinks is right, and we’ve forced him to choose. I understand that. But the only way to help is if he lets me talk to him –”

“No, it’s more than that,” said Morgana, shaking her head. “Of course that is difficult, but I think by now he’s accepted that Uther is irrational about magic and that he can’t follow his father blindly. But Arthur –Arthur has a hard time with anyone keeping secrets from him, mostly because it’s been a part of his whole life. His mother’s death has never been explained to us as more than ‘the horrible times twenty years ago’, but considering how hard Uther is on him, it must gnaw at Arthur. And he’s never been allowed to ask, either by Uther or by his own strict code for himself.”

“And the thing is, Merlin,” Gwen chimed in, “that he knows you had no choice but to hide from him, and you know his sense of fairness, so he has to ignore it because he’s mad at himself for caring so much in the first place. I know I would be. I mean, not that I would be as stubborn as he is –”

“I don’t know, Gwen, you have your moments,” Morgana said dryly, and Gwen looked embarrassed.

Merlin sighed to himself as Morgana continued to tease Gwen. It made all too much sense – Arthur keeping a distance because he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at Merlin, but also trusting him less and not letting Merlin try to regain that trust.

He turned back to the girls, but refrained from asking for more advice; while Morgana certainly knew Arthur better than anyone else (and it didn’t irk him, at all, to admit that was true), he didn’t particularly like her method of confronting him. He needed a different approach.

*

Well, using shock tactics was not necessarily the most diplomatic method of salvaging a relationship, but Merlin figured that with him and Arthur, even getting a rise out of the other would count as a small victory.

Which was how Merlin found himself in Arthur’s chambers mid-morning the next day, just around the time that Arthur would be finishing up a training session, conspicuously performing a spell that had Arthur’s clothes folding themselves on the far table while Merlin took a broom and cleaned the floor the traditional way – and then Arthur came in right on schedule and stopped short, stunned into silence.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Arthur said finally.

Merlin continued sweeping. “Well. I didn’t sleep too well last night, so I thought I’d do this by hand. I can only keep up one spell at a time when I’m tired.”

Arthur gave him an exasperated look and that – that was the first honest, familiar expression he’d seen on Arthur’s face in a week.

He couldn’t help grinning a little.

Arthur scowled harder but it was less heavy, serious than it had been since the rescue mission, and even Arthur seemed to realize that something had slipped a little. “Yes, very funny,” he informed Merlin, tossing his belt and scabbard onto his bed, “and it would’ve been a right laugh if it’d been my father, wouldn’t it?”

“If it’d been your father, I would have heard his heavy footsteps from outside, not to mention that he would call your name for you to come out instead of bothering to come in. Usually,” Merlin amended. “And the clothes would’ve simply dropped onto the table, half-done, while I swept.”

Arthur snorted in disbelief. “Clearly, a fool-proof plan.”

“Oh, clearly,” Merlin agreed, and was rewarded with another glare.

“So this is what you use it for?” Arthur, still standing, after Merlin had made his way sweeping to the other side of the room. “Chores, idle tasks?”

“You think this is all I use it for?” Merlin said quietly.

Arthur threw his hands up, plopping down onto the bed. “I don’t know, Merlin, you tell me,” he said, his tone challenging even as his eyes seemed all too wise. And that was the point, wasn’t it; this was supposed to be Merlin’s story, not Arthur’s discovery. Even if he couldn’t change the past, Merlin was trying to change the way he told Arthur right now, and if he was honest with himself, he’d been waiting for this chance.

“I – use it to help people. Good people.” You, he didn’t say.

“Even though it’s against the law?”

“Especially because it’s against the law,” Merlin insisted. “The law means that not only are innocent, peaceful people persecuted, but that the only ones who do use magic are the evil ones – or those too desperate to care. Either way, there needs to be someone with the strength and power to protect everyone else from them.”

Arthur looked up at him, head tilted slightly. “And you, Merlin,” he said, soft. “Why you?”

There were a million answers to that: maybe a million and one. His natural strength. Because he enjoyed magic, the act itself and the power it gave him. His supposed destiny, which he couldn’t help but believe, no matter where the Dragon’s loyalties truly law. To show that not all magic was evil and save his fellow magic-users. Because someone needed to.

All were true, yes, they were the threads that put him back together every time he was shaken by doubt. But the real reason – the first reason – the motive that had pushed him beyond the instinctive flares of magic he had once been prone to – was to help the people he cared about.

Selfish, perhaps, but a natural human selfishness, and it hadn’t necessarily occurred to him to use it for a greater good until – well, until he had followed the example of his friends. Gwen, who came to it through her natural empathy and kindness; Morgana, through the unselfconscious magnanimity of good people who had been raised rich and noble. And Arthur, of course, was the prince in more than just name and birthright, but in every part of himself that he controlled. Despite being a selfish, arrogant, bossy prat for some of the time, he defined himself by his people, by his role as a leader. It wasn’t selflessness, it was just something that Arthur had made a part of himself, and Merlin was learning that as well.

“For the same reason that you came to Ealdor to help people beyond Camelot, despite all consequences,” Merlin told him. Because even if that had been for Merlin, which he couldn’t begin to deny, it was also, truly, to help people who needed and deserved it.

If they continued this way, helping people for each other’s sakes, there could be no evil in it, he thought. Not in this. Just their two sides of a coin, flipping and spinning and creating a whirlwind of power and good.

And Arthur was giving him that look, the expression of half-surprise and half-understanding, the one that said he still wasn’t quite sure if he knew Merlin, but it was in the same way that he perhaps didn’t know parts of himself. There’s something about you, Arthur had told him; and Merlin thought he’d revealed everything but the intensity of Arthur’s gaze told him that there was more to look for, maybe.

Arthur cleared his throat and looked away. “Right, well. Is there anything else I should know, then?”

Merlin felt lighter, freer than he had in a long, long time. “There’s a dragon,” he supplied, wondering if he could risk shouting for joy. “Under the castle.”

“A – what?”

“The last one, that your father captured and imprisoned.”

“It’s under the castle?” Arthur peered at Merlin accusingly. “How do you know?”

“He used to call to me – well, he still does, though now he yells – but I don’t visit him anymore. I’m not sure I can trust him.”

Arthur looked resigned to Merlin’s incoherence and leaned back against the bedpost, motioning with one hand for him to continue. And Merlin did, the words spilling out of his mouth in a helpless torrent, letting them fall into Arthur’s lap to do with as he wished.

Arthur listened.

*

Even after they had sorted things out, Arthur – of course – still couldn’t let things rest like a normal human being.

“I forbid you to use magic for petty chores anymore,” he announced one day when he came back to find Merlin idly twirling a finger to darn Arthur’s socks.

Merlin blinked. “What? No!”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Look, we’ve had this conversation before –”

“No, Merlin, we had a conversation about how your magic is to be used for significant purposes, not –” Arthur waved a hand. “My socks.”

“You do think your socks are significant,” Merlin argued, frowning.

“Not anymore,” Arthur said seriously, until his mind caught up to Merlin’s remark. “Not when there are more important – hey! No, I don’t!”

“You do,” Merlin informed him. “You’re very particular about your socks. Even the other servants think it’s quite bizarre.”

Arthur was glaring at him now, which had been exactly Merlin’s goal, deflecting the debate – but to his surprise, Arthur’s face cleared quickly and he said, “That’s beside the point. You are to save magic for life-or-death situations, and that’s an order, Merlin.”

“Arthur,” said Merlin, and he found himself walking over to Arthur because he had the strangest look on his face, and Merlin needed to see it more closely to try to pick it apart. “If you think that I can do all the ridiculous chores you give me every day without any kind of extra help, well, there’s no way you can think I’m the worst manservant ever.”

Arthur had the grace to look chagrined, but he just replied, “Well, then I’ll get another servant to take over some of your more mundane tasks.”

“What am I here for, then? Besides secretly being your magical bodyguard?”

“I could promote you –”

“And that wouldn’t attract any attention at all.” Merlin shook his head. “Arthur, look, someday you will be king and it will be your decision whether magic is outlawed in Camelot or not, and if you allow it then maybe I can be something more to you. In your court. But until then, the best way is to keep doing what we’ve been doing so that no one looks any closer.” He waved his finger again and finished off a sock with an elaborate flourish. That was that.

Except that Arthur’s overprotective streak didn’t end there. He began fussing over Merlin’s every move and decision, not in annoying, particular way that he always had, but worrying at everything that Merlin did because it was too risky. And sometimes he was so absurdly stubborn about it that Merlin had to give in and – regrettably – get used to Arthur getting his way sometimes.

*

“Merlin, pour me some more wine,” Arthur said one night when he was having dinner in his chambers, Merlin stealing pieces of his food when Arthur pretended he couldn’t see him.

Merlin filled his goblet, giving him a meaningful look. “Yes, alright, you can have some,” Arthur allowed, and Merlin poured himself a cup as well.

He drank deeply but just a little too quickly, and as the wine went down his throat the wrong way, he began coughing and spluttering. “Merlin!” said Arthur, standing and grabbing at him, and really, was coughing enough reason to be annoyed? It wasn’t as if he’d actually spilled any of the wine on Arthur’s precious rug. Well, a little. Still.

“Alright, alright,” he managed when he could breathe again, “I’m sorry, alright?”

But Arthur was staring at him in an entirely unexpected way, eyes wide with shock, his hand still gripping Merlin’s shirt at the shoulder, and for some reason Merlin was finding it a little difficult to breathe again even though he had coughed out all the wine. “What?” said Merlin, astonished.

“You –” Arthur let go, almost reluctantly. “You’re fine?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said, still puzzled, “just choked a little, that’s all.”

“It looked like – it reminded me of that time you –” Arthur shook his head, turning away. “Right, clean up this mess then, if you’re done wasting your time.”

Like that time Merlin had drank poison for Arthur, he realized. And he wasn’t going to let Arthur get away with just that, until he looked closer and saw that Arthur’s hand was shaking when he picked up his bread again, just the tiniest bit. “Right,” said Merlin, looking for a cloth, wondering away at Arthur for the millionth time - maybe the million and first - with only hints of answers.


II.


The next time Morgana had the dream, Gwen summoned Merlin just after sunrise.

“Did she just wake up?” Merlin asked.

“No, it was a few hours ago. I went back to sleep, but apparently she wasn’t able to, and when I awoke she was still quite fretful about it.”

Merlin couldn’t help giving Gwen a sly look, and she did bite her lip and seem a little flustered when she caught Merlin’s glance. Make that another good thing to come out of the kidnapping, then. “Well, is she alright?” Merlin continued as they entered Morgana’s chambers.

“Yes, Merlin, I’m not a doll,” Morgana called irritably from the other room. Gwen and Merlin rolled their eyes at each other. Sometimes it was easy to tell that Morgana and Arthur had grown up together.

The prince was already there, sitting at the table, and this time it was Morgana pacing, her face drawn and exhausted. “I still can’t make out what this dream is about,” she said tightly. “That’s always the problem – it’s never what I do see that is the most terrifying, but what is missing, whatever the dream doesn’t give me. No wonder they say soothsaying is a curse. You never get all the answers, you only get enough to make you frightened.”

She looked at all of them, shaken to the core but comforted by their presence. “We need some kind of – plan of action. If I don’t start getting some answers, I will go mad.”

“It’s hard to know where to start, since we know so little to begin with,” Merlin spoke up.

“Well, can we find out any more about how your dreams work?” Arthur asked, frowning. “Gaius must have some information on seers.”

Morgana stiffened, but Merlin ignored it and said, “I think he’s told me everything he knows, and he’s investigated all his medical texts for information about dreams and sleeping drafts, but I don’t think he’s ever looked much further. I could try looking into some of his older books. Or if we could somehow get into some of the locked texts in the library…”

“That’s next to impossible,” Gwen said, “at least if we want to keep any of this hidden from Uther.”

“Gaius could be dangerous in that regard as well,” Morgana said.

Merlin turned to her, frowning. “Gaius would never betray us like that,” he said. He knew that Morgana didn’t have much faith in Gaius’ power to help, and possibly did not trust him, but he had not realized it extended this far. She had her own reasons, but Merlin could never believe that of Gaius, no matter his actions in the past or his opinions about the use of magic.

“The sorcerers who kidnapped me, they told me stories…” Morgana trailed off and shook her head. “I know,” she admitted. “I just wish we knew more about what happened twenty years ago. And as far as I understand, Gaius would rather not revisit the past even to unravel our mysteries.”

That may have been true at one time, but after the confrontation with Nimueh at the Isle of the Blessed – which Merlin had not yet revealed to anyone, since it was still too difficult to think about – Merlin knew that Gaius was made of stronger stuff than the others might guess.

“I’ll get it out of him,” he promised. “Discreetly.”

*

Unfortunately, Gaius knew no more than they did.

“Even before magic was outlawed in Camelot, there were very few well-known seers,” he told Merlin over lunch. “It is a rare and powerful gift, another remnant of the Old Religion, and not much is known about it.”

“Well, has studying Morgana over the years shown you anything?”

Gaius shifted uncomfortably. “I would hardly call it studying, Merlin.”

“Gaius.” Merlin knew that look because it was the same sort of embarrassed expression that he put on when Gaius asked difficult questions. Maybe they were more alike than he knew. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Gaius released a sigh, then stood and went over to one of his many bookshelves, rummaging through until he found the one he needed, and dropped it on the table. “I have made a record of Lady Morgana’s dreams,” he admitted. “For medical purposes, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Merlin obliged.

“As much as I could, I included the subjects of the dreams, and – ” Gaius gave him a quick glance, light shame playing on his face. “And whether or not they came true.”

Merlin leveled his gaze on Gaius, who now refused to meet Merlin’s eyes. This was why Morgana didn’t trust Gaius, and Merlin could even understand her feelings – if Gaius had long known that her dreams might be prophecies, many more calamities might have been stopped, and Morgana would not have worried for so long that there was something wrong with her mind.

But over the years, Gaius had made a practice of willful ignorance, and Merlin suspected that it wasn’t always out of self-preservation. After the purges – maybe, Merlin thought, Gaius had tried to turn a blind eye so that he did not have to play the traitor again. If he didn’t see magic, if he did nothing, it could not hurt anyone, even the magicians.

Merlin had changed all of that.

Gaius put a hand on his shoulder, gripping just tightly enough that Merlin knew he was looking for reassurance, not giving it. And Merlin couldn’t help it, but he loved Gaius and felt that in a way, helping Merlin was his way of atoning for the past. Merlin could not begrudge him that.

Gaius opened his mouth as if to say something more, but Merlin just covered Gaius’ hand with his for a moment. “May I take this to Lady Morgana?”

Morgana and Arthur were both attending a meeting of Uther’s, but Merlin found Gwen in Morgana’s chambers, they sat down together to examine the list. Gwen ran a finger over the date of the first entry. “They started earlier, really. But she thought they were ordinary nightmares and refused to tell anyone.” Gwen shook her head. “And she calls me stubborn.”

Merlin grinned at her and peered back at the record. It was shorter than he’d expected, given the frequency of Morgana’s dreams now, but it seemed that they’d increased recently. In fact, the number of nightmares in the past year – since Merlin had arrived in Camelot – was more than all the other years combined. Perhaps her skills were developing the way Merlin’s had, bringing her more and more power.

In the earlier entries, Gaius had not managed to find out many of the dreams’ subjects from Morgana. “Do you remember any of these?” Merlin asked.

Gwen frowned, looking at the dates. “This was just after the Summer Solstice, I remember. She saw a man stirring a cauldron of blood and chanting over it. Within the next few days, a magician began murdering men in the lower city to drain them of blood for some important spell.”

“How was he captured?” Honestly, however arrogant it may be, sometimes Merlin wondered how Camelot had survived this kind of magical attack before he had arrived.

“Oh, he wasn’t,” said Gwen absently. “He killed five men and disappeared from Camelot – I suppose he only needed so much blood. Uther never even knew.”

Of course he didn’t, Merlin thought sourly. If the killings were in the Lower Quarter, why should he? At least it had disguised Morgana’s secret once more, though it was a very, very small blessing.

Gwen managed to remember a few more particulars of the dreams, which they scribbled into the margins. There seemed to be no real pattern to them – different types of magicians with different aims, though all were dangerous. And again, few of the older attacks were pointed at the royal family at all – the wounded victims who sought revenge hadn’t begun to arrive until recently as well. No wonder Uther had never noticed, though in Merlin’s eyes a better king would have been aware of what was happening to his subjects.

At least this explained how Arthur had survived for so long before Merlin was there to protect him.

“Well, that was useful,” said Merlin when they had failed to come up with any solid connections, leaning back in the chair. “And it doesn’t even bring us close to understanding why she dreams of certain threats and not others.”

“That’s an idea,” said Gwen, thoughtful. “What if we make a list of all the problems that she didn’t dream of, but that were big enough to hurt Camelot?”

They compiled another list, again with Gwen contributing most of the information about Camelot’s recent history, and looked at them side by side. The problems that Morgana hadn’t dreamt off were often no less serious – droughts, bloody skirmishes between fiefs, a fire that had broken out in the Lower Quarter, theft, storms –

“Oh!” Gwen stared. “Merlin, we are idiots.”

“What?”

“It’s so obvious that we didn’t even realize – all of her dreams are only about magical threats, not the natural ones.”

Merlin racked his mind. That was…true, and as Gwen had said, so obvious that it had never occurred to him. “Alright,” he agreed. “But what does that mean?”

“It could give us a clue about her most recent dreams,” Gwen said. “If she can only see magical events, maybe this dream is about something non-magical, so she can’t make it out properly.”

“But then why is she having the dreams at all?”

Gwen’s brow furrowed with concentration. “Maybe it’s – both? A natural event causing something magical, and she can’t see the result because it’s cloaked by the first part?” She sighed. “If only we knew more about other seers!”

“No, Gwen, this is good,” said Merlin, getting excited. “And when we tell Morgana and Arthur they might have more ideas.”

At the mention of Morgana’s name, Gwen gave a little start, getting up. “Oh, they’ll be back soon, won’t they? I should finish mending that torn frock of Morgana’s before she returns.”

Merlin tugged on Gwen’s wrist and pulled her back down in her chair. “Gwen, Morgana won’t mind, you know that. Relax a little.”

“Relax?”

“Relax,” Merlin said firmly.

Gwen gave a surprised laugh. “You know, Merlin, you are something,” she said, sounding a little like Arthur, which was not a thought Merlin’d ever had before. “I thought in the country it was all work all the time, just to get enough food and wood for every day.”

“Oh, no,” said Merlin, nonchalant, “not in summer. Before the harvest, that was the laziest time of the year. Besides, my – special abilities always helped,” he added, wiggling his fingers at her dramatically, making her giggle.

“I never thought it would be like this,” Gwen said after a moment.

“That you’d be able to take breaks from your work?”

“No – well, yes, partly, but I meant – being a servant and not a servant at the same time. Having something more than that.”

“Oh,” said Merlin, understanding. “Well, you completely deserve it, you know, if she makes you happy.”

“Of course she does,” Gwen said with a brief smile. “But even that’s not exactly – I mean, I’ve always known that I could trust Morgana and consider her my friend, but I thought she was special as a noble, to even think of a maid on equal terms, and that she just liked me because I was there for her when it mattered. That any other servant in my place might have been the same. But now with this –” she waved a hand at the bed, still shy, “and with even Arthur listening to me, and the four of us working together on this like we’re not only friends but a team – it’s unreal. This kind of thing isn’t supposed to happen to ordinary people.”

Merlin remembered one of the first conversations he’d had with Gwen, when she’d said that she liked ordinary men. At the time Merlin had been more concerned with how extraordinary his own life had become, and had assumed that she just didn’t need the trouble that came with more exciting, wild lovers. But Gwen being Gwen, maybe it was more a statement about herself – that she’d never expected anything more, so it was useless to think about what she wanted instead of what she thought she’d get.

“Firstly, Gwen, not any other servant would have been there for Morgana when it mattered,” Merlin said. “So if she liked you for that, it was still for you. Secondly – have you ever thought that maybe you aren’t ordinary? You’re pretty special. We all think so, especially Morgana.”

Gwen ducked her head, fiddling a little with a small hole in her dress, but she glanced back up to smile at Merlin. “I suppose we’re lucky, then, having a master and mistress that realize we’re special.”

Merlin snorted. “You’re lucky, you mean. Even after finding out that I’m a powerful magician, Arthur still thinks I’m an idiot.”

“Well, he jokes, but –”

“Trust me, Gwen, the only reason we became friends is because I was the first person to talk back to him. I think he likes the challenge.”

“No, Merlin,” Gwen said, strangely insistent. “Arthur thinks you’re pretty special too.”

Well. Merlin wasn’t sure he had quite the energy to think about that any further, hadn’t had it since the exhaustion of admitting his secret even two weeks ago. Maybe that was why he’d tried so hard to casually deny it. Thinking about his relationship with Arthur any more was…complicated.

Fortunately, Morgana and Arthur arrived just then. “Ah, so there’s my missing servant, idle as usual,” Arthur said, and Merlin threw Gwen an I-told-you-so glance.

“We may have come up with something,” Merlin said, holding up the book. Arthur and Morgana joined them at the table, and Merlin and Gwen explained Gaius’ records and their theory.

“There’s more news,” Morgana said, exchanging a look with Arthur. “The knights that were investigating my kidnapping – to hunt down more rogue magicians, Uther says – returned this morning. They found no one, and Uther seems to be leaving the issue aside for now, but they did reveal something: in the place the sorcerers took me, the stone table is known by the local villagers as the Seat of Seers.”

“And Uther didn’t suspect anything of you when he heard that?” asked Gwen, anxious.

“No, Gaius told him it meant that the location itself has magical energy, and that they were merely using Morgana to learn hidden secrets of Camelot,” said Arthur.

The Seat of Seers. It did sound like the Old Religion, majestic and mysterious all in one. Merlin’s mind was whirling with possibilities. “There must be some kind of record of it, then,” he pointed out. “At the very least, how old it is – perhaps even who built it.”

“I’m sure there are,” said Arthur grimly, “but even worse, I know exactly where they would be.”

*

“Right, so when I said you should sneak into the library and use some kind of magic spell to make a duplicate of the book that we need, I assumed you’d wait until when no one else was there – like, say, in the middle of the night instead of this afternoon?”

“No need,” said Merlin patiently. Despite Merlin’s protests, Arthur was following him down the hall to the library, hissing objections out of the corner of his mouth while trying to remain inconspicuous and lordly. It wasn’t really working, considering that the prince was needling him the way that Merlin usually did to Arthur, which threw him off a bit.

“Oh, and why’s that?” Arthur continued after they’d successfully passed another scullery maid who gave them a confused glance.

“Because I’ve done this before – I always tell Sir Geoffrey that I’m looking up something for Gaius. And then I play the fool just enough so that he gets annoyed but doesn’t kick me out, and that leaves him thinking I’m just a witless idiot.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Arthur muttered.

They reached the winding stairs that led up to the small library, and Merlin stopped. “Arthur, it will be fine, and right now the only thing that would make me stand out is you coming with me. I can do things on my own, you know.” Which was an odd statement to be making – usually Arthur let him do his tasks without any guidance, even expected it, and then waited until afterwards to complain about how poorly Merlin had done them. It was a bizarre reversal to have Arthur try and stop him from doing anything.

Arthur still looked displeased, but he just crossed his arms and said, “Unlikely,” in a huffy voice before letting Merlin go.

It took Merlin some time to find the book he needed – as usual, he had to wander over to some tomes about herb-gathering and medicinal elixirs to appease Sir Geoffrey before he could start searching properly. Even then, he made the mistake of looking for historical accounts until he realized that they only described battles, not the geography of an area or local legends.

He switched his focus then to books of folklore. Even those were few and far between, since Uther had outlawed or confiscated any that put magic in a good light, so all that remained were the stories of evil, dangerous magicians.

Merlin finally came upon something that described a sacrifice made in the clearing of the Seat of Seers, possibly even on the table itself. He skimmed over the beginning, and, satisfied that it should help, began to discreetly mutter over the book.

He managed to duplicate the whole thing, just in case there was any other helpful information. Then he covered the new copy with both hands and began a new spell that he had taught himself just before coming to the library, which would shrink the object that he was enchanting. He was getting better at learning incantations, but it had still taken him a few tries to shrink Arthur’s sword in practice, at which point Arthur got red in the face and yelled at him for a while, giving him the incentive to practice re-growing it.

He tucked the tiny book into his coat and glanced back at Sir Geoffrey, who was still making a painstaking examination of some ancient scroll that Merlin could have sworn he’d seen him looking at the last time he was in the library. He sometimes wondered why Sir Geoffrey didn’t take all that free time he seemed to have to organize the books better. It certainly would have made Merlin’s life easier.

The librarian barely noticed him, so Merlin decided to look a little more for good measure, heading instead to the court records of feudal tributes and land acquisition, which had much better surveys of the land. He quickly copied some that seemed to cover the right area, and was just putting the scrolls back in when those familiar heavy footsteps tromped up the stairs.

Oh no. Uther.

Merlin had never seen him come into the library before, and he was clearly there to speak confidentially to the record master, because when he began imperiously, “Geoffrey, I need –”, Sir Geoffrey coughed loudly and indicated in Merlin’s direction.

Uther turned to him, startled, and his eyes narrowed. Merlin hoped the king would just snap at him to get out so that he could get on with his business, but as usual, Uther seemed suspicious of Merlin no matter how many times he had helped save Arthur’s life.

“You,” he said, stalking over, and Merlin’s heart sank. “Shouldn’t you be tending to the prince’s needs? What do you think you’re doing here?”

“Doing some research on herbs for Gaius, your highness,” said Merlin, trying to be as meek as possible.

“Gaius does send him quite often, your majesty,” Sir Geoffrey put in, and Merlin felt a sudden burst of warmth for the old man.

“Herbs, is it?” Uther said, voice hard. “That doesn’t look like herblore.” Merlin risked a glance at the still-open scrolls which were, distressingly, very obviously maps.

Merlin resigned himself to another day wasted in the stocks, and began to babble the way he usually did. “Sire, Gaius was telling me of the places where some of the rarer plants grow, and I thought that it may be useful to learn more about those places instead of just the herbs themselves, and – ”

“Merlin, are you finished yet?” called out Arthur, annoyed, from the entrance of the room. For a moment Merlin was relieved just to hear his voice, until he remembered that the prince had no idea Uther was there.

Except that when Arthur rounded the corner of the shelves, he didn’t seem surprised at all. “Father. Is there a problem?”

“Arthur, are you aware that your manservant is idling his time away here?” Uther demanded. “You should have better control over what he does. His lack of discipline is appalling.”

“I asked him to do this for me, Father,” said Arthur, and Merlin suddenly felt better. If Arthur was going to make a habit of using his amazing lying skills to help him out, Merlin wouldn’t be complaining.

“Why?” asked Uther, eyeing Merlin with dislike.

“I, er…” Arthur didn’t seem to be doing all that well, though, faltering for an excuse, until he straightened and said, “I wanted to play a – prank. On Morgana. So I needed Merlin to find some information for me.”

Merlin stared at him, dismayed. What kind of lie was that?

To Arthur’s credit, Uther’s disbelief and anger made him forget to be curious about the nature of the prank. “A prank?”

“Yes, sire.”

“I thought you were past these petty, childish tricks, Arthur,” the king said coldly. “I see it’s you who requires discipline today, not your manservant.”

Arthur said nothing, staring straight ahead as Uther continued, “You shall spend a week supervising the transfer of refuse from the castle to outside Camelot, assisting the laborers as well.”

It was a humiliating job, not only putting Arthur beneath his usual position, but also completely in the eye of the public. Even if they did not know the cause, all of Camelot would soon know that the prince had somehow disappointed his father. Arthur had blanched a bit at Uther’s words, and after Uther swept out of the library he stood for a moment, lips tight, and then grabbed Merlin’s arm and hurried out himself.

*

They delivered the books to Morgana’s room. Merlin grew the books back to their normal size and stood, fidgeting, as he explained their purposes to the girls. Arthur was pointedly not looking at him, gripping the back of a chair.

When Gwen and Morgana began to look at the books with earnest, Merlin couldn’t help himself. “What was that?” he said. “Playing a prank on Morgana?”

Arthur scowled. “It was the first thing I could think of. And it worked, didn’t it?”

“If you call that working – incidentally, did you come in just to stop your father?”

“Well, I knew you’d be hopeless on your own.”

“How did you even know he was there?” Arthur refused to meet his eyes, and realization came upon Merlin. “Were you watching the library entrance while I was in there? You were.”

Arthur glared at him and turned his back, looking over Gwen’s shoulder. Merlin could tell from the line of his shoulders that he was more upset about his father than about Merlin, and more than he was even letting on. “No, you’re not getting away with that,” he said, grabbing Arthur’s arm to force him around, and Arthur stared at him, surprisingly angry.

Morgana looked up and frowned at them. “If you two have something to take care of, would you mind doing it somewhere else?”

“What?” Arthur snapped.

“Really,” said Morgana, giving him a stern look. “You have your own chambers, use them. Gwen and I will take care of this for now.”

Arthur flushed a little, which just confused Merlin even more, but he wrenched his arm out of Merlin’s grasp and stalked out of the room.

Merlin watched him go, bewildered not only at his actions but also at his apparent anger. He was the one who was supposed to be furious here, since Arthur had been so needlessly rash and impulsive, and he’d put himself in more danger than Merlin’s stupid chores had, and really, no matter how well he thought he knew Arthur, Merlin had no idea what was going on in Arthur’s head at the moment. Sometimes he didn’t think he could ever understand Arthur completely, no matter how well they were bound together, how fast and hard they were pulled towards fate while still moving at the same speed.

“Well?” Morgana demanded when he hadn’t moved. “Go, you idiot.”

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. Merlin went.

He pushed hard at the door to Arthur’s room, and Arthur looked startled to see him so soon. “Just tell me why,” Merlin said before Arthur could get a word in.

“Why what?” Arthur said slowly.

“Why did you come up to get me? You knew it would be a mess with your father, especially if you were so panicked that you couldn’t even lie properly, so why did you take the chance?”

“What, you thought after all the times I’ve risked my life to save you from some ridiculous mess, I would abandon you now?” And there was that unfathomable anger again that Merlin just couldn’t reason out.

“No, I just – I could’ve gotten out of this, I didn’t need you to be made embarrassed – ”

“Right, because you were doing such a good job of that. If there’s to be a punishment, better me than you, at least.” Merlin gave him a skeptical look and Arthur colored a little. “It attracts less attention!”

“No, you stepping in and getting punished your father would make things much, much more noticeable,” Merlin pointed out. “After everything you’ve said saving magic for significant things – that should go for fighting with your father too, since that could get you hurt even more easily.”

“You think I told you to tone down your magic so that I wouldn’t get hurt?”

“Well –” said Merlin, bewildered, “and Morgana and Gwen, yeah, what else would it be?”

“What about you?” said Arthur, less angry somehow, his voice low and unreadable.

“What? What about me?”

Arthur shook his head, frustrated again. “You’re an idiot. Do you think so little of me?

Merlin was getting lost in this conversation, falling into confusion, and Arthur was only getting more upset and helpless. The look in Arthur’s eyes then was something hard to define, not only hurt at the implicit accusation but that it was Merlin making it. And that was just the last straw – he was getting all twisted up in his own words so that Arthur was reading blame and distrust where there was only confusion, and Arthur wasn’t even giving him a chance to ask the right questions.

“No!” he said, frustrated, the words thick and heavy in his mouth. “Arthur, I just don’t understand, alright? You’ve risked your life for me and I, I would do anything for you, we both know that, but that’s because – you need me. And because it’s my job to protect you. Even –”

Merlin swallowed, throat tight. “Even when it gets me blamed for things I didn’t do, and humiliated in front of all of Camelot. That’s my duty, maybe even my destiny. But you’re the master, the future king, and I know it’s your duty to look out for me when it’s important, but not otherwise. So why would you? Why do you?”

Arthur was staring at him, his eyes a little hollow, and Merlin could feel the frustration bubbling in him again because the thing was – while it may be unusual, even surprising for Arthur to jump in the way he had with Uther today, or the way he had bossed Merlin around in the past weeks for to protect Merlin, it was certainly not astonishing, and Merlin knew that. These were questions that didn’t need to be asked, a tacit part of their friendship that, like most of it, fell into the category of strange-but-it-works, unconventional and maybe the better for it.

But there was something behind it – something that Merlin had been reaching at for a long time, though he hadn’t even known it, because it was the thing about Arthur that Merlin had needed to look for but was too close to see. And now that he was able to pick the invisible threads out of Arthur, even if he couldn’t focus on them he still tugged with all his might.

“It’s always important,” Arthur said, a little desperately. “You, you are – important.”

That – that –

Merlin shook his head, completely and utterly lost, everything blurring in front of him as if he really were presbyopic when it came to Arthur. “What? ”

“Oh, for –” Arthur started, crisp and annoyed in a way that all too familiar, “you really are unbelievable, I swear.”

He strode over and shoved Merlin back into the wall, his face determined, and Merlin only had time to let out a sudden, epiphanic “oh,” before Arthur kissed him.

It was sudden and hot and earth-shattering, because this was Arthur, and no matter how much Merlin now realized he wanted this it should change everything; but then, maybe it wouldn’t, because the only thing Merlin could feel right now was complete, swaying dizzily on the edge of a precipice but all the better for it. If this was dangerous then it was like his magic, perilous but necessary. Inevitable, even.

“Oh,” he repeated, dazed, when Arthur pulled back.

“Is that all you can say?” Arthur demanded, but his face looked flushed and so uncertain it was ridiculously charming. Which, really, meant Merlin couldn’t resist playing with the idea.

He bit his lip and looked unhappy for a moment, watching Arthur’s face tense, and just as Arthur opened his mouth to begin some kind of pointless attempt at face-saving, Merlin gave a sudden grin and grabbed his shirt to tug him back in. “Apparently,” he said against Arthur’s lips.

“Idiot,” Arthur retaliated, too breathless to sound anywhere near convincing, and Merlin took advantage of the moment to lick his way into Arthur’s mouth, sucking on his lower lip as Merlin felt the back of his head knocking gently against stone again.

Arthur pressed Merlin into the wall, gasping his name again so softly and quickly that he almost didn’t catch it, and Merlin wrapped one hand around his neck, his fingers entangling in soft, irresistible hair. He sank deeper into the kiss, pulling Arthur impossibly closer, and let his mind forget about everything else, everything outside this, the invitation of Arthur’s lips and body and soul, him and Arthur together against the world. Maybe this was destiny, and maybe this was what the dragon had meant despite Merlin’s feelings about it; but it was also about what they wanted – what he wanted.

Merlin came back to earth when he realized that Arthur’s hands scrabbling at his waist were trying to undo his trousers. “Arthur, Arthur, wait,” he panted, “bed,” and Arthur looked at him, eyes wild, before giving a sharp nod and pulling Merlin away.

They tumbled onto the bed and really that should have made things easier, but Arthur couldn’t seem to stop kissing Merlin which made undressing surprisingly complex. He tugged uselessly at Arthur’s shirt; now that the floodgates were open he was heady with it, and he wanted skin and heat and taut muscle beneath his hands.

And then he could feel his eyes flashing gold, in that strange way that made them feel a little cold every time he did magic, except that this time he hadn’t even meant to, and then suddenly their clothes were all gone. Arthur only looked surprised for a moment before grinning and pushing Merlin back, climbing onto him. “In a hurry, are you?”

“You have no idea,” Merlin said, pulling him down, gripping his shoulders and feeling the shiver of heat rising up his spine as Arthur started kissing him again, his hands everywhere, Merlin trying to wrap his legs around Arthur’s waist and not quite succeeding because Arthur was moving too much.

And then there was a little more than heat, something tingling inside him, and then not only inside but between them, and Arthur stopped abruptly.

“What?” Merlin said, breathing hard.

Arthur drew a slow finger down Merlin’s ribs and they both flinched; there was a spark of energy, not painful, just surprising. Arthur frowned and pressed his hand again onto Merlin’s side, palm open, fingers splayed, and there it was again, a shimmer running through their blood, and Merlin was acutely aware of every spot that they were touching, Arthur’s skin laying imprints in his own.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Arthur said, sounding a little strangled.

Merlin shook his head. “No.”

“Could you stop it?”

“I don’t think so,” he admitted.

There was a slight pause before Arthur said, “Good,” and swooped back down on him.

Merlin could feel the fizz on their lips and thought that something this unreal and good should be unbearable, but it felt like being lifted to an even higher plane, and with Arthur that feeling was more right than Merlin could even express, putting them even more in synch.

Arthur drew away again, more slowly, and Merlin saw that if he looked hard enough, there was even a slight glow around him – as if Arthur weren’t beautiful and golden enough already – but from the expression in Arthur’s eyes he knew he must look the same. He reached up to nip at Arthur’s neck and gasped in surprise as Arthur’s hand closed around his cock.

“There’s something I want to try,” Arthur told him, voice husky, his hand sliding up and down, excruciatingly slow.

“Besides this?” Merlin managed, trying to keep his hips from jerking up and not succeeding very well.

“Oh yes,” said Arthur, and licked his lips suggestively before letting go of Merlin to slide down his body.

“W-what?” Merlin couldn’t keep a note of incredulity out of his voice. “Wait – really?”

“Yes, Merlin, really,” said Arthur, sounding put-upon. “Are you going to say no?”

Only Arthur would be irritating enough to make Merlin say no out of pure petulance, but images of Arthur’s red mouth and the fluttering of magic that made even Arthur’s breath feel amazing kept him from saying anything but, “Nngh.” And he couldn’t even feel annoyed when Arthur replied, “I thought so,” in a smug tone, because suddenly there was Arthur’s tongue licking stripes up his cock and letting out shaky breaths from the pure, vibrant connection between them.

He knew he was babbling as Arthur continued languidly, something about prat and should’ve just let all those sorcerers get you and Arthur, oh. He couldn’t make himself stop until Arthur reached up to put a finger to Merlin’s lips and took the opportunity to take Merlin into his mouth completely. Merlin shut up, then.

Arthur hummed approvingly around his dick. Merlin groaned, and Arthur let his finger slip between Merlin’s parted lips, stroking Merlin’s tongue as he sucked, and Merlin couldn’t help but follow suit, suckling on Arthur’s fingers like he was starved and needy and oh god, he probably was. But not now, because here was Arthur with him, driving Merlin crazy with his amazing mouth, and at the same time smirking so much up at Merlin that he wanted to both burst out laughing and melt from pure desire.

It wasn’t even that, of course, the lust and the jokes and arguing; he and Arthur were being bound together more and more every day, by secrets, dependence, destiny, this sparking between their bodies. Maybe it was supposed to be this way, but it still felt overwhelming, and he had a sudden a thought that this unbreakable bond could be dangerous, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was the same feeling he had when about to lay his life on the line for Arthur, and if that were true, they had passed dangerous by a long time ago.

He couldn’t help moving his hips now, short, shallow thrusts into Arthur’s mouth, Arthur’s fingers curling in his own mouth as his other hand gripped Merlin’s waist, and Merlin choked out a warning as everything rose up in him and spilled over, finally.

Merlin lay for a moment, gasping, feeling his entire body shiver from the left over shimmers. Arthur sat up, wiping his mouth and still looking at Merlin with that heated gaze that made Merlin’s breath catch all over again.

As soon as he was able to he sat up himself, leaning back on the headboard to keep himself upright. Arthur looked a question at him, doubtful, but Merlin gestured and when Arthur crawled up to him, he reached for Arthur’s cock with even more magic in his fingers. It was inadvertent, the increase of power, but Arthur immediately let out a low moan and bucked into Merlin’s hand.

Merlin stroked, testing out the new angle, thumbing the head carefully before sliding his hand back down rapidly, and Arthur leaned over him to pant into his shoulder. Merlin let another spark of magic fizzle out to him and Arthur pressed his sweaty forehead into the side of Merlin’s neck as he came, breath ragged on Merlin’s collarbone.

Arthur looked up after a moment of Merlin stroking his hands idly up and down Arthur’s sides, and Merlin grinned at him, Arthur, and everything they were to each other, and Arthur smiled back before leaning in to kiss Merlin again.

*

“I can’t believe –”

“What?” said Arthur, breath tickling the nape of Merlin’s neck. He sounded irritated, but the arm that he had wrapped around Merlin tightened slightly, so Merlin wasn’t too worried.

“That we got the deathly secrets out before this one,” Merlin admitted.

“Cause and effect, Merlin. Revealing secrets tends to lead to more.” Arthur shifted almost imperceptibly closer. “There aren’t any more secrets, are there?”

“Well, I should probably tell you that I was sleeping with Gwen for a while,” said Merlin regretfully, and as Arthur’s head shot up, the horrified look in his eyes made Merlin burst out laughing straight away. “And you call me an idiot,” he snorted when he could breathe again.

“I didn’t believe you,” Arthur scoffed, though he looked a little flushed.

“Yes, you did, you prat, you just don’t want to admit that you might have killed Gwen if it were true.”

“Oh, is that so?” said Arthur, growling, and he flipped Merlin onto his back and straddled his waist, leaning over him menacingly.

Merlin’s breath caught in his throat despite himself. Arthur bent his head to bite Merlin’s neck, sharp but not enough to hurt, and ran his tongue up Merlin’s collarbone, trailing up his neck to find a spot that made Merlin shudder and squirm when Arthur mouthed at it. “Morgana,” he murmured into Merlin’s skin, “would kill you first.”

“True,” Merlin breathed. “You’d protect me, though.”

Arthur kissed his ear, the tips of his hair brushing lightly against Merlin’s cheek. “Maybe,” he whispered – and Merlin was falling, inescapably, secured only by the tenuous strings of fate, but it was worth it. It was worth losing the safety of suspension for Arthur because to know Arthur was to love him, and to be loved by Arthur was to be let in, a privilege too rare to be refused; and there was nothing else Merlin could do but thread hands into his hair to pull Arthur down, falling, with him.